Rehab

Imagine having your mobility taken away from you. Athletes go through this regularly. A sprained ankle, torn knee or back spasms and you’re out of commission. On the beat, we’ve seen how hard it is to come back from all of these. This writer is learning how to walk again.

Because of my heart issues, I was restricted to a hospital bed for most of the 38 days that I was confined. My legs stopped working due to the inactivity. It took me more than a week to be able to stand on my own. I had lost 30 pounds (not a weight loss program I would recommend) and my butt all but disappeared. A lot of the loss was muscle tissue. My endurance was also questionable, since my heart was only functioning at 25 percent. I’ve been sleeping sitting up, since my heart is still unable to pump out all the fluid in my lungs right away.

The most humbling part was being able to stand up under my own power. The lower the seat (like the toilet) the less likely I would be able to do it without any help. Considering how heavy I still am (just under 200 pounds) it often took more than one person to lift me. Talk about swallowing your pride. On top of that, I was in a diaper while confined. I looked like a giant Boss Baby. So now, I’m in rehab three times a week, literally starting from zero.

The first order of business was to be able to stand. This took more than a week to be able to rise off wherever I was sitting, wobble, then stay standing. It was tiring. I struggled doing simple leg-raising exercises with two-pound weights. I could barely do one set lifting a three-pound dumbbell over my head. What happened to me?

Next came “sit to stand” exercises. I often lost my balance, or couldn’t get up unassisted. Half-squats were agonizing. I  just told myself that it was better than having my stomach injected with blood thinners, my arm being jabbed for blood tests, and an IV in my arm daily. Eventually, I started taking hobbled steps, and stumbled. My right leg was unstable, I barely survived two laps on an 80-meter oval at the Philippine Heart Center’s coronary rehab center. Frail, older patients were outdoing me. I lowered my expectations of myself, took all the small gains with great satisfaction. It was the biggest mental test I’ve ever faced. I needed to will myself to get better.

In my first month, I’ve finally been able to walk steadily, and do up to five laps around the oval. Still unable to consistently hold my balance one-legged, though. It’s starting to get frustrating. No time to cry. No time to feel small.

I hope to be strong enough to return to work in a few weeks. My battle is still far from over.